


and if i fall in love again, let it be for the last time

by sevensevan



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Based on a Tumblr Post, Cowboy AU, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, So much flirting, country girl adora x city girl catra, more or less, plotless nonsense but adora wears a cowboy hat so i think i did good, this is just 13k words of catra thirsting to be clear, working title: country girl i love youuuuuu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:15:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,580
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25330732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: “What do you do?” Catra asks. “On the ranch, I mean.”“Pretty much anything that needs doing,” Adora says with a shrug. “I help out with the animals, fix fences, dig holes, paint walls. And I’m always happy to help out our guests, so if you need anything, I’m around.” She flashes Catra a grin that reveals perfect teeth. “‘Sides, I know the property better than anyone. If you ever want a tour, I can show you the best views we’ve got.” That grin turns a bit devious, and Catra’s eyes narrow, wondering if Adora offers all this toeveryguest.“I’ll keep it in mind."(Catra rents a vacation house on a ranch in Montana. Everything kind of spirals from there.)
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 544





	and if i fall in love again, let it be for the last time

**Author's Note:**

> country-boy-i-love-you-vine.mp4
> 
> guys. guys. i have no excuses. at least three people i know irl follow me on here. they're all going to see this.
> 
> listen i was going to write like 4k words of cowboy adora flirting with catra and then it just. didn't end. it kept going. i don't know what's wrong with me.
> 
> based on [this](https://adorasheart.tumblr.com/post/623231563020304384/listen-listen-ranch-hand-adora-with-her-cowboy) tumblr post by @adorasheart on tumblr. i was inspired and then i was enabled by y'all saying nice things when i posted sneak peeks of this on tumblr. i take no responsibility for what i've done.
> 
> enjoy.

Catra opens the door to the guest house slowly. It doesn’t creak, which eases a little bit of the feeling that she’s in a horror movie. She flicks on the lights, though they’re hardly necessary. The burning hot, midday sun is streaming in the windows that line the house. She drags her baggage inside off the porch, which stretches the length of the house, and closes the door behind her before looking around the room.

The house isn’t what she expected. Given the online description of a “vacation home on a historic ranch”, Catra was either expecting a tiny, horrible cabin or a grotesque mansion masquerading as a farm house. It’s neither. It’s small, though: Catra is standing in the living room, which contains a couch, a coffee table, a TV, and a dining table by the window. Maybe five paces to her left is the entrance to the kitchen, which has a linoleum floor straight out of the 70s, though it’s remarkably clean for its age. On the other side of the living room, which is just a little bit cramped with all of its furniture, is the open bedroom door. Catra picks up her suitcases again and heads for the door.

The bedroom isn’t too big, either, but the bed looks absolutely _luxurious_. Catra counts eight pillows on first glance, and the blankets look wonderfully soft. She drops her suitcases to the floor, not even bothering to look at the bathroom attached to the bedroom yet, and face-plants onto the mattress.

_Oh, fuck yes_. The bed is just as soft as it looked. Catra rolls onto her back, groaning quietly in satisfaction. She had flown economy class on the way here, trying to avoid drawing attention to herself and getting recognized in first class, and she had regretted it the moment she had gotten on the plane. It’s like they fill the seats with rocks. Her whole body hurts.

Catra lies there and stares at the ceiling for awhile, wondering what she’s doing here. It had been a spur of the moment decision to rent out a house on a ranch in rural Montana for three weeks, and another spur of the moment decision to actually _go_. Her last movie had been massively successful. She should be on a press tour right now, doing interviews and meet and greets and taking photos with fans dressed up as her character. Instead she’s lying on an unfamiliar bed, a thousand miles from home, based on a momentary whim and an offhand suggestion from her therapist that she take a break from work.

Catra takes a deep breath and sits up. No reason to waste her time moping over coming here in the first place. As long as she’s stuck in the middle of nowhere, she might as well try to figure out why people like it.

Catra walks back out through the living room, leaving her suitcases behind. She can unpack later. She wanders through the kitchen, which is filled with high-tech cookware: a shiny new food processor, industrial blender, and all-steel knives, at first glance. There’s a typed note pinned to the refrigerator, amidst all the other notes with information for guests, with a number Catra can call to get groceries delivered.

A flash of movement catches Catra’s eye. She turns, looking out the kitchen window. There, on the porch railing, is a blueish-grey cat. It stares back at her through the glass. Catra slowly leaves the kitchen, the cat watching her all the while. Catra looks away for a moment and slips out the front door. The moment she’s outside, she looks back at where the cat had been, but it’s gone. Well, not gone, but no longer where it was.

Instead, it’s down at the end of the porch—which Catra couldn’t see from the kitchen—getting ear scratches from a tall blonde woman in a cowboy hat standing next to a white horse.

“Uh,” Catra says. “Hi?” The woman looks up from the cat, eyes widening slightly when she sees Catra.

“Oh!” she says. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t realize the new guest had gotten here already.” She speaks with a slight drawl—not quite an accent, but it’s getting there.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Catra says. She crosses the porch, leaning against the railing at the end, a few feet to the woman’s left. “I’m Catra.” It’s probably unnecessary to introduce herself. It’s not like her face is plastered across every billboard from here to New York City or anything.

“Pleased to meet you,” the woman says, touching the brim of her hat. It’s such an out-of-place, almost absurdly old-fashioned gesture that Catra blinks in surprise. “I’m Adora. I work on the ranch.” Now that she’s at the end of the porch, Catra can see Adora’s face better—can see that she’s kind of gorgeous. Big, grey-blue eyes, straight nose, a decent tan. Beneath Adora’s flannel shirt, Catra’s pretty sure she can see the outlines of strong muscles pushing against the fabric.

“What do you do?” Catra asks, consciously forcing herself to stop ogling Adora. “On the ranch, I mean.”

“Pretty much anything that needs doing,” Adora says with a shrug. “I help out with the animals, fix fences, dig holes, paint walls. And I’m always happy to help out our guests, so if you need anything, I’m around.” She flashes Catra a grin that reveals perfect teeth. “‘Sides, I know the property better than anyone. If you ever want a tour, I can show you the best views we’ve got.” That grin turns a bit devious, and Catra’s eyes narrow, wondering if Adora offers all this to _every_ guest.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Catra says, mirroring Adora’s slightly playful tone. She reaches out, giving the cat the ear scratches that Adora is depriving it of.

“Surprised he’s lettin’ you touch him,” Adora says, nodding at the cat. “He’s real shy, usually. Most guests never even know there’s a cat.”

“Huh.” Catra glances at the cat, who is pushing his head up into her hand, eyes closed, purring quietly. “What’s your name, little guy?”

“His name’s Melog.” Catra gives Adora a strange look.

“ _Melog_?” Adora laughs at Catra’s questioning tone. It’s a good sound: rough, loud, genuine.

“Don’t ask me,” she says. “We got ‘im from the animal shelter in town a couple years ago. Came pre-named.” Behind Adora, the horse makes a huffing noise and shifts on its feet. “Hey, Swifty,” Adora says, patting his neck. “It’s okay.” She looks back up at Catra. “I better go, Swift Wind here needs his dinner. If you need anything while you’re here, my number’s on the fridge in there, and you can always come on up to the big house.” She gestures up the dirt road, towards the large ranch house that sprawls about three-quarters of a mile from the place Catra has rented. “I’m sure everyone would love to meet you.”

“Sounds good,” Catra says. She leans a little further over the porch railing, unable to resist, and slips a little more rasp into her voice than usual as she says, “I hope I’ll see you around, Adora.” Adora _definitely_ picks up on Catra’s tone. She turns a lovely shade of pink beneath her tan and adjusts her hat nervously.

“I’m sure you will, ma’am,” she says.

“Just Catra.”

“I’m sure you will, _Catra_ ,” Adora corrects. Catra suppresses a shiver. She _really_ likes how her name sounds in Adora’s subtle drawl.

Adora steps back from the porch and climbs up onto her horse in one smooth movement that Catra can’t quite comprehend. “Be seein’ you,” Adora says. She fixes her hat on her head and taps her heel against Swift Wind’s side. He breaks into a slow walk.

“See you,” Catra says. Adora waves over her shoulder without looking back. Catra looks down at Melog, now butting his head against her still hand, looking for more pets. She shakes her head and scoops him up in one arm, carrying him as she walks back into the house.

_I can’t believe I have a cowboy fetish_. Catra sits down on the couch, and Melog jumps out of her arm, chirping angrily at being carried. _God, Double Trouble is going to mock me into the fucking grave for this_. It’s not _Catra’s_ fault Adora is so…just, _wow_.

“At least I still thought her boots were ugly,” Catra says to Melog. “That’s a good sign, right? I’m still me?” The cat does not respond.

* * *

Catra is sweating by the time she gets to the ranch house. The sun is setting, but it’s still pretty warm out, and the road is a lot steeper uphill than it looked. Also, she probably shouldn’t have worn a jacket. But there are mosquitoes, and it completes the outfit, dammit. She’s almost self-conscious about making her first impression on her hosts while a sweaty mess, but she quickly remembers that _she’s_ the one paying _them_. They aren’t allowed to judge her.

Catra rings the doorbell by the front door, unsure what else to do. She’s trying to take Adora’s advice and meet her hosts. She definitely isn’t trying to see Adora again.

The door flies open. “Hello!” the man behind it declares, a little too loud. “You must be Catra!” Catra represses the urge to take a half-step back.

“Uh, yeah,” she says. “That’s me.” The man beams at her. He’s a little overly exuberant, but he looks kind: long, dark hair that’s greying on the sides, a salt-and-pepper beard that can’t quite hide deep smile lines, and crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes.

“It’s wonderful to meet you!” the man says, stepping to the side. “Please, come in! I’m Micah, I think we’ve emailed before.”

“Yeah.” Micah had signed every email with a smiley face. It had weirded her out. “It’s…nice to meet you?” The entryway of the ranch house is a bit of a mess—Catra counts at least nine pairs of shoes and another five or six individual shoes, none of which are on the little shoe shelf by the wall. “Should I take my shoes off?”

“Oh, no, it’s fine,” Micah says, waving a hand dismissively. He starts walking towards a hallway leading out of the entryway, and Catra has to half-jog to catch up. “I make the kids take off their shoes, but you’re a guest!”

“Kids?” They step into a kitchen—much bigger than the one in Catra’s guest house, but with fewer fancy appliances.

“Yep, kids!” Micah says. He heads over to the stovetop, where something that smells absolutely _delicious_ is cooking. “Angie and I have Glimmer, of course, the light of our lives. She’s twenty-one now.” He shakes his head, a bit teary-eyed. “She grew up so fast.” _You named your kid_ Glimmer _?_ Catra clears her throat. _No judging. This is your host_.

“That’s…nice,” she says. “Glimmer lives on the ranch, too?”

“Oh, no,” Micah says. “Not usually. She’s off at college most of the time, but she stays here in the summers still, so she’s around. And Adora, of course.” Catra very carefully forces her expression to remain neutral.

“I met Adora,” she says. “Down at the guest house. She said she worked here, I didn’t realize she was your daughter.” Which, now that Catra is thinking about it, doesn’t make a whole lot of sense. Micah is Asian, and Angella, who Catra had mostly emailed while making reservations, is also Asian, judging from her email profile picture. Adora had very much not been Asian.

“Well, not by blood,” Micah says. “We adopted Adora when she was ten. But she’s our kid, too. She decided to stay and work on the ranch after high school.” _Adopted_. It makes sense, but it only fuels the curiosity that’s begun to burn in Catra’s stomach. Adora is attractive, sure, and Catra is mostly interested in finding out how far her tan goes down her chest, but she’s also just…interested. She wants to find out more about Adora.

“Cool,” Catra says. “So, Adora lives here? Is she around?” She tries to make the question sound casual. She isn’t sure how successful she is.

“Not tonight,” Micah says. “Adora and Glimmer are having dinner with Bow—that’s their friend from high school—at some restaurant in town tonight. And Angie’s on a work trip, so it’s just me.” He looks up, smiling suddenly. “Hey! You could stay for dinner, if you want! I’m making fresh ravioli.” Catra, to her own surprise, actually considers it for a moment. The sauce that Micah is stirring smells incredible, and she hasn’t eaten since a sandwich that could barely be considered food on the plane. Besides, Micah is nice, if a bit weird.

But Catra came out here to take a break, not make new friends or thirst after ranch hands. She’s supposed to be relaxing, and trying to get to know herself a little better, figuring out why acting isn’t quite making her happy anymore.

“I think I’ll head back out, actually,” Catra says. “I saw a restaurant in town I want to check out.” It’s a lie. She’ll probably go buy weird fried food from the grocery store deli and eat in her rental car, since Double Trouble isn’t here to side-eye her and remind her that she’s supposed to be on the superhero diet.

“Alright, if you say so,” Micah says. “But the offer stands. I’m a good cook, and the kitchen door is always open if you’re hungry.” He grins at her, and Catra smiles awkwardly back. She doesn’t know if she’ll take him up on it.

Micah walks her out and says goodbye, and Catra wanders back down the hill to her rental house. She shivers on the way down. The sun has set, and the temperature has dropped dramatically with it. She showers quickly when she gets home, then crawls under the luxurious blankets in the bedroom. They’re just as warm as they look, and the room is far darker than Catra is used to. There’s no light pollution out here like there is in L.A., and the overcast sky hides the stars.

Catra falls asleep quickly, and rests better than she has in years.

* * *

“Morning, Melog,” Catra says as she sits down on the bench swing on the front porch. The cat makes a happy chirping noise beside her, but when she reaches down with one hand to try to pet him, he jumps off the bench and runs away. Catra is a little disappointed—Melog had been so cuddly the night before, the third one she’s spent in this house—but dismisses it. He’s a cat; of course he’s moody. Instead, she turns her attention to the morning before her.

The sun rose a few hours ago. Catra’s never been an early riser, and she sees no reason to change that while on vacation. It’s still low in the sky, though, and the afternoon heat is a long way away. Catra is wearing an old, ratty hoodie to keep away the chill, and its sleeves fall halfway down her palms where she’s holding a mug of coffee. She sips it absently as she watches the morning. The ranch stretches across rolling, grassy hills, all the way to a patch of low forest in the distance. The drifting clouds of the day before are gone: the sky is so blue it’s almost hard to look at. It’s always sunny in L.A., too, so Catra should be used to it by now, but there’s something different about the sunlight out here—or maybe it’s the air. It’s cool and clean in Catra’s lungs, and it doesn’t filter away the light, either.

After a few moments, Catra spots someone coming up the main dirt road, a few hundred yards away from her rental house. Catra squints, and sees long blonde hair under the cowboy hat. The figure glances over at her, and Catra’s pretty sure it’s Adora. She waves, and the figure stops in its tracks. The person seems to think for a moment, then turns and begins to walk up the long driveway towards Catra.

It’s _definitely_ Adora, and she’s _definitely_ only wearing a white tank top over her jeans.

Catra gets up from the porch swing and walks over to the railing as Adora approaches the house. She sets her coffee on the railing beside her and hopes her hair is still mostly in the ponytail she had tried to force it into earlier this morning.

“Mornin’,” Adora shouts once she’s within about thirty feet of the house.

“Good morning,” Catra says, resting her palms against the porch railing in what she desperately hopes is a cool pose. It’s probably hindered by her faded hoodie and fluorescent red running shorts, but she can only do so much. “How are you not freezing right now?” Adora comes to a stop in front of Catra and looks down at herself. Catra takes the opportunity to look at Adora’s bare arms, and _hm, yep_ , she’s somehow even more jacked than Catra had hoped.

“Been up working since dawn,” Adora says, looking up at Catra. Catra takes a half second too long to drag her eyes back up to Adora’s face, but Adora doesn’t comment on it. “It’s hard to get cold when you’re moving around.”

“I bet.” Catra can’t resist. She drops her eyes back down to Adora’s body. Adora’s arms are shining slightly in the morning sunlight, drawing attention to the way her biceps curve up towards broad, muscular shoulders. Her wife-beater clings to her chest and stomach, and Catra’s pretty sure she can see the outline of Adora’s abs through the thin fabric.

When Catra finally looks back up, Adora is grinning at her. Catra feels her face heat up, and clears her throat awkwardly, just to break the silence.

“No horse this morning?” she asks after a moment, when it becomes clear that Adora isn’t going to call her out on her staring. Adora glances behind herself, almost like she expects Swift Wind to be there.

“No,” she says. “Didn’t need him for anything, and he doesn’t like sittin’ around waiting for me when I’m working. I was taking him out for fun the other night.” She sticks her hands in the pockets of her jeans and leans back to look up at Catra. The posture is almost irritatingly cool. “You like horses?”

“Dunno,” Catra says, shrugging. “I haven’t met very many of them.”

“Really?” Adora says. “Well, I’ll have to…take you for a ride some time.” She smirks, and Catra takes a deep, calming breath, refusing to confront any of the mental images conjured up by Adora’s words.

“I’d like that,” she says. Adora’s vaguely smug look turns into a real smile, which threatens to make Catra light-headed.

“Well, good,” she says. “I’d like it, too. I’d like to know more about you, Catra.” Catra laughs, and Adora frowns. “Sorry, that was forward of me, huh?”

“What?” Catra shakes her head. “No, it’s fine, it’s just funny. You know a lot more about me than I know about you.” Adora looks at her blankly. “Wait, do you not know who I am?”

“You’re Catra,” Adora says, “the pretty girl stayin’ on my parents’ ranch.” Catra…should _not_ be flustered by someone calling her pretty.

“I—thanks,” she says, ducking her head slightly. “Thank you. But that’s not what I mean. I mean— _The Horde_? The movie series?” Adora shakes her head.

“I don’t watch many movies,” she says.

“Okay, but, like—“ Catra pauses. She hasn’t met someone who doesn’t already have a picture of Catra in their head in _years_. “ _The Crimson Waste_? _The Portal_? No?” Adora just shrugs. “Okay, what about _Etheria_? Y’know, that kids’ show?”

“Didn’t watch TV as a kid, neither,” Adora says. “Why d’you think everyone knows who you are?”

“Because they _do_ ,” Catra says, exasperated. “Don’t make me sound full of myself. I literally can’t go to the grocery store without getting mobbed. Your _parents_ definitely know who I am!”

“I don’t go out much,” Adora says. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to offend you by not watching your movies.” Catra winces, though Adora sounds like she’s mostly kidding.

“No, Adora, it’s not like that,” she says. “I’m not offended, okay? I came here in the first place because I was sick of everyone knowing who I am. I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Adora says. “I had no idea we had Hollywood royalty here on the ranch.” She takes off her hat and holds it over her heart, executing a low bow. “My apologies, your Highness.” Her tone is unmistakably mocking.

“Fuck off,” Catra says, rolling her eyes. Adora laughs and straightens up, still holding her hat in her hands. With it off, Adora’s ponytail forms a strange little poof above her forehead before going back into her ponytail. “You think you’re funny, huh?”

“I sure do,” Adora says. “What is a big-time movie star doing in Bright Moon, Montana, anyway? No movies to make right now?”

“I’m…taking a break,” Catra says. “Going for walks. Thinking things through. I have some decisions to make.” She doesn’t elaborate, and Adora doesn’t ask for details.

“Walks?” Adora asks instead. “Y’know, my tour offer still stands. I know all the best trails around. I can show you one of my favorite spots.” Catra doesn’t even hesitate.

“Sounds good,” she says. “Are you free today?” Adora’s eyes widen slightly in surprise, like she wasn’t expecting Catra to accept.

“I can be,” Adora says. “I could use a shower first, but…give me an hour or so?”

“Okay,” Catra says. She could use an hour, too, to try to tame her hair and figure out if she owns anything that she both looks hot and is capable of hiking in. “Where should I meet you?”

“I’ll come pick you up,” Adora says. She fits her hat back onto her head. “I’ll see you soon, Catra.”

“See you,” Catra echoes. With one wide, final grin, Adora turns and wanders back up the road. Catra watches her walk away until it’s probably creepy to continue, then picks up her coffee from the porch railing and heads inside. The coffee has long since gone cold—not that Catra needs it, when she’s getting a full view of Adora’s glistening muscles and smiling face first thing in the morning.

And now she’s thinking about _waking up_ to Adora’s muscles and smile, and that isn’t helpful at _all_.

Catra kicks the thought away and heads to the bedroom to search for clothes. Some part of her feels a little guilty for doing this: for pulling Adora away from whatever work she has to do, and for abandoning her own work. Catra is supposed to be out here…contemplating, or whatever. Figuring out what’s missing in her normal life, how she can fill that gap and be happy. Instead, she’s going for a walk with a pretty girl. It’s a distraction.

_That_ thought sounds like Shadow Weaver, and Catra pushes it away as hard as she can. Adora isn’t a distraction. She’s a person. An interesting, beautiful person that Catra wants to know more about, and maybe wants to pin down and kiss until neither of them can breathe, and that’s okay. That’s _good_. And no matter what the voice Shadow Weaver had instilled in the back of Catra’s mind says, Catra is going to do it.

(The getting-to-know part. Maybe the pinning-and-kissing part, too.)

* * *

“Why would anyone do this for _fun_?” Catra asks, sitting down heavily on the ground with her back against a boulder. Adora just laughs at her, sitting atop another nearby rock.

“It’s fun,” she says, taking her backpack off and setting it by her feet. Catra groans and tips sideways, sliding over until she’s lying on the ground.

“It _sucks_ ,” she says, rolling onto her back. “My feet hurt, and I’ve never had this many mosquito bites in my life.”

“I did offer you bug spray,” Adora points out, digging through her backpack. Catra makes a face at the clear blue sky above them.

“It smells bad,” she says.

“The mosquitoes think so, too.” Adora goes quiet for a moment. Catra can see her concerned look in her peripheral vision. “I’m…I’m sorry you’re not havin’ a good time, Catra. I guess I didn’t think about how hard the hike would be for someone who isn’t used to it.”

“Whoa, hey,” Catra says. Adora looks so… _sad_ , and disappointed in herself, it makes Catra’s heart hurt. “I’m just whining. It’s a way of life, I complain about everything. I’m having fun.” Adora doesn’t look convinced, so Catra adds, a little boldly, “Besides, I like spending time with you.” Adora smiles slightly.

“I’m glad,” she says. “Bet the view don’t hurt.” Catra props herself up on her elbows and looks out. Adora’s right. It’s a hell of a view. They’re about twenty feet back from the edge of a low cliff in the middle of the forest on the edge of the property—though, now that Catra has hiked through it, she can hardly call it a real forest. It’s mostly tall bushes. The cliff offers them a nice vantage point of the open land rolling away from them, and a small stream trickles by near its base. The fence marking the property line is visible in the near distance. It looks like something out of an old western.

“It doesn’t,” Catra agrees. “It’s pretty.” Not quite in the way she’s used to in California, where “pretty” is reserved for redwoods or rushing rivers or giant rock formations, but pretty all the same.

“This won’t hurt, either,” Adora says, grabbing something from her backpack. “I brought food.” Catra sits the rest of the way up immediately.

“Food?” she asks. Adora laughs at her eagerness and tosses something wrapped in foil to her. Catra barely catches it, and shoots a glance at Adora, hoping that her fumbling wasn’t witnessed. Judging by Adora’s smirk, it definitely was.

“That one’s turkey, pesto, and provolone,” Adora says, then pauses, her brow knitting. “I didn’t ask if you were vegetarian or something, or had allergies. Um…”

“It’s cool,” Catra says, already unwrapping the sandwich. “I eat anything.” She bites into the sandwich the moment it’s visible and has to close her eyes and lean backwards as she chews. _Holy fucking shit_. “How old are you?” Catra asks, looking over at Adora. Adora blinks at her.

“Twenty-two,” she says. “Uh…what about you?”

“Same,” Catra says. “Asking because I don’t understand how no one has married you yet. This is _so fucking good_.” Adora turns pink and laughs awkwardly, looking down. She didn’t bring her hat on the hike, so Catra can see every detail of Adora’s expression as she bites her lip anxiously.

“I don’t know about that,” Adora says quietly. “Like I said, I don’t get out too much.” She looks up at Catra, and Catra wishes that she hadn’t just taken a _giant_ bite of her sandwich so she could respond. She had, though, so she just gives Adora an awkward, closed-mouth smile. Adora smiles back, clearly amused. Catra uses the few moments it takes her to chew and swallow to stare unabashedly at Adora. With her hat absent, Adora had braided her hair instead of tying it back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing another tank top. This one seems to be an old jersey of some kind, maybe basketball, with the number 7 on the back. It offers an _excellent_ view of Adora’s arms and back.

“How come?” Catra says when she can finally speak again. “You went to high school in town, right? Don’t you have friends around?” Adora shrugs.

“Mostly just Glimmer and Bow,” she says. “That’s my adopted sister and our friend from high school. But they go to college together, so they’re not around most of the time. I don’t really know anyone else around. I was pretty shy in high school.” Catra has a hard time reconciling the image of Adora smirking up at her over the porch railing with the idea of Adora being _shy_ , so she doesn’t try.

“Why not take a class or something?” Catra says. “Or _teach_ a sandwich class, because, seriously, holy shit, Adora.” Adora grins at the compliment. “But seriously, it can’t be that hard to meet people in a town that small.”

“It wouldn’t be,” Adora says with a shrug. “I don’t know. I’m pretty happy just bein’ out here. I’ve known everyone on the ranch since I was little, and I love all of ‘em, so…why leave?” She fidgets with one of her backpack straps absently. “I guess I’m…I’m a little scared of everything going on out there. I got adopted when I was ten, y’know, and before that…the outside wasn’t too good to me.” Catra knows what that’s like.

“That’s something we have in common,” Catra says. Adora looks up at her, confused. “Being adopted,” Catra clarifies. “I got adopted when I was six. Never met my real parents. But my mom—my adopted mom, I mean…she wasn’t great.” Adora nods slowly. She doesn’t say she’s sorry. Catra appreciates that. They both know how much the system sucks, apparently. They don’t need to feel sorry for themselves, or each other.

“You still talk to her?” Adora asks. Catra shudders.

“Absolutely not,” she says. “I got emancipated when I was seventeen. It was…a whole thing. I’m amazed you didn’t hear about any of this, it was all over the tabloids for months.” Adora shrugs, apparently content in her past self’s obliviousness. “I did the whole child star thing, and she was all over it, controlling everything I did for ten years of my life. I got sick of it. So I took her to court.” Catra grins at the memory. Most of the proceedings had been hellish: hours of sitting on the stand and explaining her childhood trauma in detail. But it had been worth it, in the end, for the look on Shadow Weaver’s face when the judge granted not only the emancipation, but a restraining order on top. “You know, you could probably just Google all this stuff if you’re curious.”

“No way,” Adora says. “If I’m gonna get to know you, I’m gonna get to know _you_.” Something in Catra’s chest roars to life, like an engine turning over before it catches.

“Thank you,” Catra says quietly. “I…appreciate that.” Adora smiles at her.

They eat in silence for awhile. Catra switches between looking at Adora and looking at the view. She can only assume Adora notices the staring, but she isn’t really aiming for subtle. She figures if it bothers Adora she’ll say something.

Eventually, Catra takes her phone out and snaps a photo of the view. She’s planning an Instagram post for the end of her trip, and this would be a good addition—especially since all she has right now are photos of Melog.

“We should start heading back,” Adora says after Catra puts her phone away. “It’s gettin’ pretty hot out here.”

“Ugh, okay,” Catra says, only whining a little bit as she climbs to her feet. She picks up her water bottle and watches as Adora repacks her backpack, buckling things into place and tossing it over her broad shoulders. “Hey, Adora?” she says.

“Huh?” Adora glances at her. “What’s up?” Catra hesitates. She isn’t sure, exactly. She just…

“For what it’s worth,” Catra says, “I don’t think you need to be afraid. Of the outside, I mean. I think people would love you. You’re…pretty great.” Adora gives her a small, curious smile.

“You barely know me, Catra,” she says. “I’m flattered, but…” Catra can feel herself blushing, and she looks down at her feet, embarrassed.

“Yeah,” she says. “Sorry.”

“Hey, no.” Adora steps over to her, setting a hand on Catra’s shoulder. “I wasn’t tryin’ to—reject you or anything. I just don’t want you saying things you don’t mean.” Catra takes a deep breath, steadying herself. _Not everything means you’re going to get abandoned, Catra, Jesus fucking Christ_. Not exactly the positive reassurance her therapist has tried to teach her, but it works for her.

“Well, help me mean it, then,” Catra says, looking up, and _whoa_ , Adora’s face is very close to her own.

“Help you mean it?” Adora’s hand is still on Catra’s shoulder, and she’s raising an eyebrow, and Catra is—just, so fucking gay.

“Yeah.” Catra has to take a step back just so she can breathe again. “Tell me about yourself. So I mean it next time.” Adora looks down at the ground with a small smile, and suddenly Catra _can_ picture her as a shy teenager. She looks like no one has ever complimented her before—which Catra can’t imagine is true, if only from meeting Adora’s adoptive father. Micah hadn’t seemed like the type to let his children go unappreciated.

“Well, alright then,” Adora says. She adjusts her pack. “Let’s get walking, and you can ask me whatever you want.”

* * *

Catra pours a second cup of coffee before she heads out to the porch, carrying a mug in each hand. She’s done that every morning since her hike with Adora last week, and every morning, Adora has come by just before ten, still glistening with sweat from her morning work, and sat with Catra on the front porch.

Catra has learned a lot of things about Adora: that she loves both planning and building things, the intellectual challenge of sketching out plans in three dimensions and the physical work of putting the pieces together. That she loves books, especially Jack London, and struggles through physical books despite her dyslexia because she likes the experience. That she has a small tattoo of a crown over her heart for her older sister who died when Adora was six. So far, Catra’s statement up on the cliff has only been proven right. Adora is pretty great.

And Catra _likes_ her. Which sucks, because when Adora had just been the hot girl who works on the farm, it had been a lot simpler. Catra is leaving in nine days if she doesn’t extend her stay, and she still hasn’t figured out why she isn’t _happy_. She’s felt the most _her_ she has in years wandering around the ranch or sitting on the porch swing with Adora. She doesn’t want to leave that—but judging from her phone call with Double Trouble last night, she’s not going to get the option to stay here any longer. Her agent had made it pretty clear that the renewal of Catra’s contract to work on the _Horde_ movies rests on her coming back and making a few press appearances, _soon_.

“You’re distracted today.” The sudden voice makes Catra jump in place, and she’s really glad the mugs of coffee are on the small coffee table in front of the porch swing, because she would’ve knocked them right over. Adora is standing at the bottom of the porch stairs, grinning at her from beneath her stetson.

“Fuck you,” Catra says, taking deep breathes to slow her heart rate. Adora laughs and jumps right up the three steps onto the porch itself. She doesn’t look nearly as sweaty today, and she’s wearing an unbuttoned green flannel over her white tank top. She’s carrying her backpack, too. Catra wonders what’s different today.

“That for me?” Adora asks, as she does every morning, gesturing at the mug of black coffee on the table next to Catra’s highly diluted one.

“Sure is,” Catra says. Adora crosses the porch and slides onto the porch swing next to Catra. She grabs her coffee and takes a sip, leaning back against the back of the swing with a satisfied sigh.

“You make a damn fine cup of coffee, Miss Catra,” Adora says, playing up her drawl almost comically with a teasing grin. Catra turns bright red and looks away, groaning in disgust.

“I literally can’t stand you,” she says. “You’re horrible.” Adora laughs at her.

“Aw, figured you’d like that,” she says. “Aren’t you into the Hollywood cowboys?”

“I will throw you off this porch.”

“I’m pretty sure I’d win that fight,” Adora says, bumping one muscular shoulder into Catra’s. “Hey, I got a plan for today, if you’re interested.”

“What’s up?” Catra says, sipping her coffee. “Another hike?”

“Not exactly,” Adora says. “Swift Wind’s been gettin’ pretty antsy lately. I was wondering if you’re interested in learning how to ride.” Catra doesn’t have to think about it for long.

“Sounds good,” Catra says. Adora grins like a kid on their birthday, like Catra’s agreement is a blessing. It makes Catra’s whole body feel warm. “When do we leave?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Adora says with a shrug. “We just gotta walk to the stable and get you on a horse.”

“Okay, then.” They finish their coffees in comfortable silence. Adora’s shoulder is still pressed up against Catra’s, and Catra can feel her body heat through two layers of clothes. Catra has to fight the urge to rest her head on Adora’s shoulder. It’s not like Adora would reject the gesture—she’d probably reciprocate it—but it’s that kind of small intimacy that Catra is trying to avoid. It’s a disruption to the easy, lighthearted flirting they do in the mornings, and it’s a little too casual for the more serious moments they’ve shared, opening up to each other about their pains, past and present. It suggests a kind of comfort with each other that Catra is afraid of asking for. Not when it’ll be taken away so soon.

They settle back into bantering on the short walk to the stable, and it feels safer to Catra than the quiet on the porch had. She steals Adora’s hat, and Adora chases her up the path to get it back. They shove each other like little kids, bickering all the way up to the stable doors. It’s dark and muggy and smells kind of bad in the stable, and it’s not like Catra could help much anyway, so she waits outside as Adora goes in to get Swift Wind. She leans against the outside of the stable, instead. It’s a nice morning—slightly overcast, cool without being chilly and without the threat of rain later on. She imagines it’ll get sunny later on in the day.

Catra’s relaxation is interrupted by a wet snuffling sound in her ear. She shrieks, jumping away from the side of the stable and turning to glare at her attacker.

It’s a horse. Not Swift Wind. This one is dark grey, and a bit shorter than Catra remembers Swift Wind being. It makes another wet, gross noise at her, and Catra retreats another half-step. She doesn’t want horse spit in her hair.

“Catra, meet Darla,” Adora says, appearing out of nowhere with her hands on the reins of Darla’s saddle. “She’s gonna be givin’ you a ride today.” Catra eyes the horse suspiciously. Darla stares right back at her, seemingly just as unimpressed as Catra. “Catra?”

“I don’t trust her,” Catra says. “She’s giving me a weird look.”

“She’s a horse,” Adora says, bemused. “Look, she’s a real old girl, and she’s gentle. Give her a chance.” She lets go of Darla’s reins and steps up beside Catra. “Look, give her a pet.” Adora reaches out and grabs Catra’s hand, which sets off about a thousand nervous system reactions in her whole body. Adora’s hand is warm, dry, and rough with callouses, and she touches Catra so gently that it almost hurts. Adora lifts Catra’s hand into the air, her palm against the back of Catra’s hand, and sets Catra’s palm on Darla’s snout. “See,” Adora says, voice quiet enough to send a shiver down Catra’s spine. “She ain’t so bad.” Adora’s hand slips away from Catra’s, which is _intensely_ disappointing. Catra gives Darla a hesitant pet.

“I can’t tell if she likes it,” she says after a moment. Adora laughs.

“I’m sure she loves it,” she says. “Keep her company while I go get Swift Wind.” Adora disappears back into the stable, and Catra stares at Darla, still not quite comfortable. Darla stares right back.

“If I embarrass myself doing this, I will turn you into glue,” Catra says to the horse. Darla sneezes on her. Catra closes her eyes and forces herself to not pay attention to the fact that she probably has horse snot on her shirt.

“How’re things going out here?” It’s Adora, returning from the stable with Swift Wind in tow. “Y’all bonding?”

“Sure,” Catra says. “How do I do this?”

“It’s pretty easy,” Adora says. “‘Specially with Darla, she’ll do most of the driving for you. Getting you up there will probably be the hardest part.” Catra eyes the stirrups dangling from Darla’s saddle. It doesn’t look _that_ difficult.

“Is it that hard?” she asks, coming around to the side of the horse.

“Tell you what,” Adora says, stepping up beside Catra. “Gimme your hand and give it a shot.” Catra holds out her right hand and Adora takes it in hers. She holds her a bit more tightly this time, and the pressure is reassuring. “Okay,” Adora says. “Just put your foot in and push. Get your other leg over the top quick.” Catra can do this. She does her own stunts in movies all the time. This can’t be that hard.

Catra sticks her right foot in the stirrup and pushes. Immediately, her knee starts to wobble, and there’s a terrifying moment where she’s sure she’s going to fall. Then Adora’s other hand flies to her waist, steadying her, and Catra manages to haul her left leg up and over the horse.

“There you go,” Adora says, squeezing Catra’s hand before letting it go. “That was pretty good for your first try.” Catra adjusts, trying to get comfortable on Darla’s back, and quickly comes to the conclusion that she just isn’t going to be comfortable at all.

“Now what?” Catra says, looking down at Adora. She immediately realizes just how high up she is. Adora is looking almost straight up to look Catra in the eye.

“Now I teach you how to steer,” Adora says, grinning. “And then I show you my favorite place on this whole ranch.”

* * *

“Nice limp,” Adora says. Catra growls wordlessly at her, hobbling over to a spot on the ground that looks comfortable. She almost doesn’t want to sit down; her ass already hurts enough. Slowly and painfully, she lowers herself onto the ground and stretches her legs out in front of her. Adora walks over, no trace of a limp in _her_ strides, and settles onto the ground beside Catra. “I hope the spot makes the ride worth it,” Adora says quietly. Catra looks around them. They’re on the opposite side of the ranch from the cliffs. Catra hadn’t realized just how far the property extended, but they’d ridden for almost two hours to get here. Granted, Catra’s inexperience probably slowed them down.

Catra and Adora are sitting on a small strip of rocky beach, with sheer banks on either side and a river pouring past before them. It isn’t anything impressive—it’s only a few steps above a creek—but the water moves past enough to turn white in places and produce a pleasant white noise. There are low bushes all around the river, though none as tall as the scraggly forest by the cliff. The whole area is hidden in a dip in the land, out of site from any other spot on the ranch.

“Yeah,” Catra says. “I like it out here.” Adora smiles softly at her.

“I’m glad,” she says. She takes off her cowboy hat and undoes her ponytail, freeing her hair to float around her shoulders. Catra is only a little bit captivated. “Like I said, it’s my favorite spot.”

“How’d you even find it?” Catra asks. “It’s pretty well hidden.” Adora goes quiet for a bit, and Catra wonders if she’s hit on a sensitive subject. She doesn’t retract her question, though. Adora will answer if she wants to. In the silence, Catra leans forward to stretch her legs. She reaches easily past her toes, almost to the ground. In her peripheral vision, she can see Adora watching her.

“When I first moved in with Micah and Angella,” Adora says eventually, still watching Catra closely, “Angella took me out here. The ranch comes from her family, not Micah’s, and she was the only other person who knew about this spot. She took me out here and told me that it was my place now, that if I ever needed somewhere to think or cry or just be by myself, I could come out here. Not even Bow and Glimmer know where it is.” Catra straightens up out of her stretch and turns to look at Adora.

“Your best friends don’t know about this place,” Catra repeats. Adora nods. “But…you took me out here?”

“Yeah.” Adora shrugs. “I guess I just…trust you. A lot.” Catra pulls her knees up to her chest and hides her face behind them to mask the blush those words cause. Adora shouldn’t trust her. Catra is leaving soon, and she knows _exactly_ how much it hurts to trust someone and have them walk away. “Hey,” Adora says. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m that obvious, huh?” Catra asks. She lifts her chin, cradling it between her knees and looking at Adora.

“Not really,” Adora says. “I’ve just been payin’ real close attention.”

“Why?” Catra says.

“Huh?”

“Why have you been paying attention?” Catra looks away. “I mean…I’m leaving next week. I shouldn’t matter to you.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Adora asks. She’s half-smiling, like Catra has said something amusing. “ _Shouldn’t_ matter?” Catra shrugs.

“I just—I don’t want to hurt you, I guess,” she says. “I’m gonna leave, and I probably won’t come back.”

“I know that, Catra,” Adora says. “You got a busy life out there. I get that. I know you’re goin’ away, and if you want to stay away, that’s alright.”

“I don’t want to,” Catra says. “I wanted to extend my stay, but—I don’t know. I talked to my agent last night, and they said everyone’s pissed at me right now. I bailed on a press tour to come here. If I don’t go back soon…I might not have an acting career left. And I’ll get vacation time eventually, but…I don’t know. I don’t want things to be different if I come back.” She doesn’t want to pop in and out of Adora’s life for week-long intervals a few times a year. She thinks that might be more painful than leaving it altogether.

“Can I ask you something?” Adora says. Catra nods. “Do you like acting?” Catra blinks at her.

“What?” she says. “What do you mean?”

“Is it fun?” Adora says. “Do you like doing it?”

“I…” Catra frowns. “I mean, I’ve been acting forever. I started at seven years old. I’ve been onscreen longer than I’ve been off. It’s—it’s my whole life.”

“Yeah, but do you _like_ it?” Adora asks again. Catra doesn’t have an answer. “‘Cause, you know, you said you came out here to think about things. We’ve talked a whole lot, and I know all about your favorite bands, and your friends, and your fans, but I don’t know a damn thing about your job.” Catra takes a shaky breath, her heart speeding up in her chest because _fuck_ , Adora is _right_. Catra doesn’t like her job.

“I can’t _quit_ ,” Catra says. “What else would I even do? Acting is my _thing_ , and, like, not to sound like an asshole here, but I kinda like being famous.” Adora shrugs.

“I’m probably not the person to ask,” she says. “But you’re pretty amazing, Catra. I’m sure you could do somethin’ else that keeps you famous.” Catra says nothing. She has a _lot_ to think about. Adora shares her silence for awhile, not interrupting Catra with anything except for a gentle hand on her back. Catra takes a small comfort in the warmth of Adora’s palm as she tries to rethink her entire life.

“I just don’t know what else I would do,” Catra says after a long few minutes of watching the river drift by. “I was never good at anything else.” She pauses. That’s not true. “Shadow Weaver—my mom—she made it really hard for me to believe I could do anything _but_ this, I guess.”

“Well, I’m gonna hazard a guess and say she was wrong,” Adora says. “‘Sides, you’ve got other talents. I heard you singin’ in the kitchen the other morning.” Adora smiles softly. “It was pretty, Catra. Real pretty.”

“Singing…” Catra had taken music lessons for five years under Shadow Weaver’s care. She can sing, play three instruments, and while she’s rusty, she knows a decent bit about composition.

And, more importantly, with music, Catra has always had _fun_.

“Adora, you’re a genius,” Catra says, a smile forming.

“I am?” Adora says, blinking.

“ _Yes_.” Catra stands up, unable to contain herself. “I could do music! Lots of actors are singers, too. I could just switch. It wouldn’t even be that hard! I used to sing on _Etheria_.” She turns, looking down at Adora. “God, thank you so much.”

“I mean, I didn’t do anything,” Adora says, smiling sheepishly. “But I’m not about to complain if I get to hear your voice on record.”

“Oh my God, I’ll get to make _records_ ,” Catra says. Adora laughs, not really _at_ Catra, just…happily, and between the laughter and the _relief_ in Catra’s chest and the way Adora’s hair falls around her shoulders, Catra can’t handle it anymore. She walks over to where Adora is sitting, legs stretched out in front of her, and sits down in her lap. Adora makes a choked noise, and her eyes go wide as Catra reaches out and pulls her into a hug. “ _Thank you_ ,” she says, voice muffled into Adora’s shoulder.

“You’re welcome,” Adora whispers back. Her arms come up and wrap around Catra, one hand on Catra’s waist and the other on the back of her head. Catra squeezes her tightly for a long few seconds before realizing what she’s done and retreating. She doesn’t get out of Adora’s lap, and Adora’s hands stay right where they are as Catra shifts backwards just enough to look Adora in the eye.

“Uh,” Catra says, looking down at her position. “Sorry?” Adora smiles.

“You haven’t done anything wrong,” she says. “I’m pretty comfortable right here, actually.” Her hand tightens slightly on Catra’s hip. “I, uh…I haven’t read this wrong, have I?”

“Depends,” Catra says, heart in her throat. “How’d you read it?”

“Can I kiss you?” Adora asks. Catra inhales sharply. She doesn’t know what the _right_ answer is. She’s still leaving in nine days, and even if she’s switching industries, she doesn’t know when she’ll be able to come back.

But she _does_ know what she wants.

“Yes,” Catra says. Adora grins at her. The hand on the back of Catra’s head moves, sliding around to cup her cheek. Adora’s callouses press into Catra’s skin, and she shivers at the feeling—and the anticipation, as Adora’s eyes flick down to her lips. Catra is about to get it over with and kiss Adora herself when Adora finally leans in.

She kisses Catra gently, almost teasingly, then, when Catra presses forward for something deeper, she captures Catra’s bottom lip between both of her own. Catra feels the barest hint of teeth against her lip, and has just enough time to gasp before Adora is sliding her hand around to the back of Catra’s neck and pulling her closer, fitting their mouths together and slipping her tongue between Catra’s lips.

It’s a more than welcome escalation. Catra digs her fingernails into Adora’s back as her whole body tingles pleasantly in response. Eventually, Adora pulls back enough to smile and look up at Catra with darkened eyes.

“Let’s get rid of this,” Adora murmurs, catching Catra’s hair tie with her fingers and pulling it away. Catra’s hair falls loose from its ponytail, and Adora makes a quiet, satisfied noise. “So pretty,” she says. “So pretty.” The compliment hits something inside of Catra that makes her melt, and she ducks her head, hiding in Adora’s shoulder. Adora doesn’t protest. She starts pressing kisses to Catra’s neck, whispering another affirmation after each one, telling Catra over and over again that she’s beautiful.

Catra feels it, right now.

Eventually, the gentle way Adora is touching her becomes too much. Catra tugs at Adora’s hair, pulling her away from her neck. Adora stares up at her, blue eyes swamped by their pupils. Catra can hardly look at her. She pulls Adora into a kiss, frantic and heated, and Adora lowers herself back until she’s lying on the ground, Catra on top of her. Catra runs her hands beneath the hem of Adora’s tank top, groaning at the feeling of Adora’s abs flexing beneath her touch. She sits up, pushing the shirt upwards to expose the muscles beneath.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Catra mutters. She works with beautiful, flawless people all the time, many of whom get _paid_ to be buff, and have an entire team of trainers and nutritionists at their disposal. Adora isn’t, objectively speaking, bigger or stronger or more fit than any of them, but the slight outlines of her abs _do_ things to Catra that none of her fellow actors’ bodies ever have.

“Yeah?” Adora asks, sounding amused. Catra glances up from Adora’s abs to her face. Adora is balanced on her elbows, grinning smugly, watching Catra touch her.

“ _Yeah_ ,” Catra says. Without really thinking about it, she digs her nails in as she drags her hands down Adora’s stomach. Adora inhales sharply.

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” she says. Catra has left eight pale pink scratches, parallel lines running down Adora’s stomach.

“Sorry,” Catra says, though she isn’t, really. “Is that okay?”

“That is— _so_ okay,” Adora says, sounding breathless. Her accent is stronger than it usually is, like Catra is dragging it out of her. “But, you probably shouldn’t do that if you’re plannin’ on starting something you can’t finish.” Catra considers it for a moment— _really_ considers it, which doesn’t speak to her ability to make sound decisions at the moment—but…

“Maybe we should stop,” Catra says, much to her own disappointment. “I don’t really wanna fuck you for the first time with two horses watching.” Adora laughs, her head tipping back.

“Yeah, that’s okay,” she says. “I get that.” Reluctantly, Catra pushes Adora’s shirt back into place and climbs off of her lap. Adora sits up the rest of the way, adjusting her clothes and pulling her legs up to sit cross-legged before looking over at Catra. “I’m glad that happened,” she says.

“I am, too,” Catra says, because she is, even if she’s kind of afraid of whatever happens next. “I guess we were kind of headed there, huh?”

“Still heading somewhere if I have any say in it,” Adora says. “But yeah. I’ve been lookin’ forward to that all week.”

“What…happens next?” Catra asks. Adora shrugs.

“Well, I brought lunch if you’re interested,” she says.

“No,” Catra says. “I mean—yes, I want lunch, but…I mean with us.” Adora exhales slowly.

“I don’t really know, Catra,” she says, voice quiet. “I’ve wanted to kiss you since the minute I saw you on that porch. And the more time I’ve spent with you, the more I’ve wanted that.”

“Yeah.” Catra feels the same. “But I’m still leaving.”

“I know.” Adora picks up a rock from the beach beneath her and spins it through her fingers. “That’s the way things work, sometimes. You don’t get to keep what you want.” Catra knows it’s true, but hearing it out loud feels like a punch in the stomach. “Hey,” Adora says softly. She reaches out, taking one of Catra’s hands in both of hers. “It don’t have to be so bad. We got another week, right?”

“Nine days,” Catra says.

“Nine days,” Adora corrects herself. “We got nine whole days with each other. That’s a ton of time. We can work with that.”

“You sure you’re okay with that?” Catra asks. “Being together now and then just…me leaving?” Adora pauses, rubbing circles into the back of Catra’s hand with her thumbs.

“I dunno about _okay_ ,” she says. “But I’m sure I wanna kiss you again. And if this is what I get, I’m gonna take it.” Slowly, Catra nods. She’s pretty sure this is going to end with her crying her eyes out in her L.A. apartment, but if she’s being honest with herself, not even that foresight is going to keep her away from Adora. “So…for now, let’s be happy,” Adora says. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good,” Catra says. She tries to smile, and is surprised when it comes easily. Adora smiles back.

They pass the rest of the afternoon there by the river. They eat lunch, flirt, bicker about nothing. At some point, they end up cuddling, and Catra falls asleep with her head on Adora’s chest. When she wakes up, Adora is snoring softly beneath her, relaxed and peaceful, the smallest smile on her face in her sleep. It’s maybe Catra’s favorite thing she’s ever seen.

By the time they find the motivation to get back on their horses and head back to the main part of the ranch, the sun is setting. Catra rides directly behind Adora—Darla is better at following directions when she’s just following another horse—and enjoys the view of Adora’s broad shoulders and cowboy hat, framed by the setting sun directly in front of her. It’s absurdly picturesque, and Catra takes out her phone to snap a quick photo. This would make the perfect ender to her vacation Instagram post—but more than that, Catra wants to remember the moment. If she only gets nine more days with Adora, this will be one she wants to keep.

It’s a great picture. Adora is silhouetted against the giant setting sun, her body almost entirely in shadow. The strong lines of her shoulders and arms stand out, and her blonde hair is just barely visible beneath her hat. Catra stares at the picture for a moment before she puts her phone away. She has the feeling that this is going to be the photo she cries over back home in L.A.

But that’s a long ways away yet, so Catra slips her phone into her pocket and looks up, focusing on the real Adora in front of her as they ride slowly back towards the ranch house.

* * *

“ _You want to do music_.” Double Trouble does _not_ sound impressed, and Catra’s chest tightens up anxiously. She needs this conversation to go well. She’s been planning it out for a week, since that day on the beach with Adora.

“Yeah, I do,” she says. “Look, DT, it’s not like I’m not qualified. Shadow Weaver made me take music lessons for years, and I’m a good singer.”

“ _Kitten, I’m not worried about your qualifications_ ,” DT says. “ _You know as well as I do that no one in Hollywood gives a damn about_ qualifications _. I’m worried about your image_.”

“My image?” Catra echoes. “I don’t give a fuck about my _image_. I _want_ this.” DT sighs deeply, and it comes through Catra’s earbuds in a rush of static.

“ _I understand that_ ,” they say. “ _But it’s my_ job _to give a fuck about your image. Catra, the last time the public heard you sing was on_ Etheria _as a pitchy twelve-year-old. You play a_ supervillain _now. Your older fans will want family-friendly pop music, and your newer ones will want some emo garbage. You’re_ going _to alienate a lot of people with whatever you do_.”

“I was not pitchy,” Catra mutters. DT clicks their tongue pointedly, but doesn’t respond. “Look, I get that it isn’t going to be easy,” Catra says. “But—I really want this, okay? You know why I came out here in the first place.”

“ _You wanted to figure out how to be happy_ ,” DT says. They sound almost resigned, now, like they know where this is going.

“I did,” Catra says. “I figured it out. This is what will make me happy.” DT sighs again, but Catra knows she’s won. At the end of the day, DT is her friend. Her agent, sure, but her friend, too, and they won’t say no to her when it really matters.

“ _I’ll see what I can do_ ,” DT says. Catra does an excited little dance in place, almost pulling her earbuds out of her phone by accident. “ _But it will be awhile before we can announce anything, and you still need to come home on Sunday. You’ll have to apologize to all the executives for ditching the press tour, too. Don’t burn your bridges_.”

“I can do that,” Catra says. Her breathing is a little shaky, now. She’s really doing this. She’s abandoning her life’s work and starting over in a new career on the advice of a ranch hand she met three weeks ago.

She hasn’t been this excited in years.

“I can send you a song, if that’ll help you pitch this,” Catra says. “I wrote one already and recorded it on my phone.”

“ _Okay_ ,” DT says. “ _Have you thought about_ —“ The doorbell of the rental house rings, and Catra misses the rest of their sentence.

“Sorry,” she says. “I gotta go.” There’s only one person who would be ringing the doorbell at eight o’clock at night.

“ _What_?” DT says. “ _Catra, we need to talk this through. What in_ Montana _is more important than your career_?”

“I…met someone,” Catra says.

“ ** _Catra_** ,” DT says, jokingly scandalized.

“I’ll tell you all about it when I get home.” Catra peeks out the kitchen window, and sure enough, there’s Adora on the porch. “I have to go.”

“ _Alright, fine, go see your mystery woman_ ,” DT says. “ _Talk to you in the morning, kitten_.”

“G’night, DT,” Catra says. She hangs up and tosses her phone, earbuds and all, onto the couch. She heads over to the door just as the doorbell rings again and pulls it open with a grin.

“Hey, Adora,” she says, letting her voice rasp in her throat. Adora has come by the guest house every night this week, since that day by the river. Catra has been having a _great_ time.

Adora does not look happy. Her jaw is clenched, and her eyes are red, but she doesn’t look sad. She looks— _angry_. Catra’s smile drops immediately.

“Can I come in?” Adora asks.

“Yeah, of course.” Catra steps out of the way, and Adora walks inside. She isn’t wearing her hat, and her hair is tied back in its usual ponytail, poof at the front and all. She crosses her arms, but it isn’t intimidating or serious. It looks like she’s trying to hug herself. “What’s wrong?” Catra asks. She takes a step forwards, trying to set a hand on Adora’s arm, to offer comfort, but Adora steps back, keeping a few feet between them.

“I saw your Instagram post,” she says. Catra blinks.

“You have Instagram?” she asks.

“I followed you after you told me who you are,” Adora says. “That’s not the point. I saw your post, the one with all the photos from the ranch.” The pieces start to fit in Catra’s brain, but they don’t make a whole lot of sense.

“Is this because I included the picture of you?” she says. “I know you’re pretty private, but your face isn't in it. And I didn’t even know you had Instagram, so it’s not like I tagged you.”

“You set your location to the ranch,” Adora says. “And you can see my hair in the photo.”

“…Okay?” Catra shakes her head, confused. “I can delete it if you want.” Adora takes a deep breath, and Catra notices her digging her nails into her own arms.

“That’ll make it worse,” she says. “I looked at the comments. All of your fans are already trying to figure out who I am. Deleting it will just provoke them.”

“Adora, they’re not going to be able to find you.” Catra kind of gets it. She knows that it’s overwhelming for normal people to have millions of teenagers on the internet hunting them down. But Adora doesn’t need to be _worried_. “All they have to go off of is that you’re blonde and were in Montana at some point in the last three weeks. Unless you’re secretly famous, you’re good.” Adora doesn’t look soothed, and Catra frowns. “Wait, _are_ you secretly famous?”

“Not exactly.” Adora laughs bitterly. “You remember that kidnapping case when we were kids? About thirteen years ago, now? A girl got taken out of her foster home and was gone for two months before they found her?” Catra frowns deeply. Trying to remember anything from her childhood is difficult—she’s repressed all that, thank you very much—but…

A news segment, playing on a TV in the makeup trailer while Catra was on set for _Etheria_. A reporter in front of a small cabin in the woods. Dozens of sirens and flashing lights. A little blonde girl with missing front teeth…and a blonde ponytail.

“Wait,” Catra says, her blood running cold. “Wait a minute. That was…”

“That was me,” Adora says. “It—I don’t wanna talk about it.” She takes a deep breath. “Point is, my face was all over the fucking country for two months. And after that, the reporters followed me when I got adopted. Micah and Angella got the Bright Moon cops involved eventually, kept them off the property, but the damage was done. People know exactly who I am and exactly where I live, Catra, and I’ve spent twelve years trying to make ‘em forget.”

“And I reminded them,” Catra says, the weight of how badly she’s fucked up settling onto her chest. “Ah, fuck.” She runs a hand through her hair anxiously. “Do you really think they’ll find you?”

“I don’t know,” Adora says. “I really don’t know.” Catra nods, taking a deep breath.

“Okay,” she says. “What—what do I do? How can I fix this?”

“You can leave.” Catra’s heart breaks.

“What?” she breathes. Her eyes are watering. “Adora—“

“ _Please_ , Catra,” Adora says. She’s tearing up, as well. “I just—you were the first person from outside the ranch that I’ve opened up to. First person other than my family that I’ve _trusted_ since I was ten years old. And I know you just weren’t thinkin’ about it, and I tried to not be mad, but…you coulda _asked_ , Catra. All you had to do was ask.”

“Adora…”

“Please don’t make this hard for me,” Adora whispers. It’s all Catra can do for her now, so she nods, and says nothing as Adora slips back out the door.

The moment the door closes, Catra sits down on the floor and cries.

She’s gotten the worst of it out when Melog appears from wherever he hides all day and climbs into her lap, balancing on her legs and staring up at her with curious blue eyes. Catra tries to smile at him, but can’t quite manage it. Her head hurts with how hard she had sobbed.

Melog mewls at her. Catra gives him a pet, wiping at her eyes with her other hand.

“Sorry, Melog,” she whispers. “I’m going to miss you.”

* * *

Catra changes her flight. It isn’t difficult; there aren’t a whole lot of people clamoring for a flight out of the tiny Bright Moon regional airport. She gets a reservation on a red eye flight for tonight, leaving at around one in the morning. That way, she has enough time to pack her bags and drive back into town.

If Adora wants her gone, Catra will leave.

She barely even bothers folding her clothes. She just rolls them up enough to fit them all in her suitcase and hopes it will stay zipped shut until she gets home. She cleans up the kitchen a bit, not wanting to leave too much of a mess for Micah and Angella, but she doesn’t have time to leave it as spotless as it was when she arrived.

Catra is dragging her suitcase towards the door when someone knocks.

She glances through the kitchen window, but can’t quite see whoever’s out there. It’s completely dark now, and the porch light has been broken since Catra arrived. She leaves her suitcase by the couch and opens the door.

“Uh…hi,” Catra says. It isn’t Adora standing on the porch. It’s two people Catra has never met before—a tallish black guy and a short Asian girl with pink hair. “Can I help you?”

“You’re Catra, right?” the girl asks.

“…Right.”

“I’m Glimmer.” Without asking, Glimmer steps past Catra and into the house. Catra frowns at her back before glancing at the guy.

“Does that make you Bow?” she asks.

“That’s right,” he says. “We’re here because…we talked to Adora. About the picture.” Catra’s heart clenches.

“Right,” she says. “Look, she already came by, and she didn’t want me to delete it. She told me to leave, and I’m leaving.” She gestures at her suitcase. “So…I don’t know. You don’t need to yell at me, too, I guess.”

“We’re not here to yell,” Bow says. He makes a vague gesture past Catra at the inside of the house. “Can I…”

“Yeah, come in, whatever,” Catra mutters. He steps inside, and she closes the door behind him. “If you’re not here to chew me out for screwing up with Adora, what _are_ you doing here?”

“We’re here to ask you not to leave,” Glimmer says. Catra blinks.

“Uh, what?” she says. “Adora made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want me here.”

“We know.” Glimmer sighs, sounding exasperated. “Look, Catra, I don’t know you at all, but I do know how Adora’s been acting since she met you. I’ve never seen her this happy.”

“After she got adopted,” Bow chimes in, “Adora kind of…settled, I guess? She found a routine, and she’s been sticking to it since we were little kids, even when it doesn’t make her happy. She only leaves the ranch when she has to, or when we drag her into town.”

“It’s not healthy,” Glimmer says. “The ranch is Adora’s entire world. It’s…” Glimmer shakes her head. “This is my home, too, and I love it here, but if it was up to Adora, she would literally never leave again.” Catra frowns. Adora had made it clear that she preferred the ranch to everywhere else, which is fine, but…this sounds worse than Adora had described it.

“Okay,” Catra says, rubbing at her temples. She’s starting to develop a headache. “What does this have to do with me, though?”

“Yesterday, Adora was talking about going to see you,” Bow says. “In L.A. After you leave.” He sets a hand on her shoulder, and Catra usually hates it when people touch her, but the look on his face is so open and pleading that she can’t get mad at him for it. “She really, really likes you, Catra,” he says. “I think she might leave if you asked her to.” Catra steps back, and he lets go of her shoulder easily.

“I don’t—“ Catra takes a deep breath. “Look, that’s a lot to put on me, okay? I’ve known her for less than a month. I’m not gonna ask her to turn her whole life upside down.” Although…that’s exactly what Adora has done for Catra. It was Adora’s advice that pushed her to make the decision to switch industries. Sure, it was also what Catra _needed_ in her life, but Adora was the reason Catra made the choice. That’s what Bow and Glimmer are asking for here: for Catra to push Adora to make a choice she needs to make.

“Do you like Adora?” Glimmer asks. Catra stares at her.

“I mean, yeah,” she says. “But that’s not the _point_. She hates me right now.” Glimmer shakes her head.

“I know my sister,” she says. “Adora doesn’t hate you. She’s angry, yeah, and scared, but if you go apologize, she won’t hold it against you. She’s too good of a person to hold grudges.” Catra has already apologized, though. Hasn’t she? She replays her earlier conversation with Adora in her head and realizes no, she hasn’t apologized. But it can’t be that easy, right?

“Catra,” Bow says quietly. “I don’t know how you feel about Adora, but I know how she talks about you. If you like her even half as much as she likes you, it’s worth a try.” He shrugs. “What have you got to lose?” What _does_ Catra have to lose? Worst case scenario, Adora tells her to leave again. Catra was already planning to leave.

“Okay,” Catra says. She grabs her phone and earbuds from the couch, the beginnings of an idea forming in her mind. “Okay. I’ll talk to her. Where is she?”

“Up at the house,” Glimmer says. “C’mon, we’ll drive you.”

* * *

Glimmer leads Catra up to a hallway on the third floor of the ranch house before abandoning her, telling her that Adora’s room is the one at the end of the hallway. Glimmer heads back down the stairs to where Bow is in the living room, and Catra is left standing in the hallway, staring down the door from twenty feet away with her heart in her throat. Adora’s door is painted white with yellow accents, but is otherwise undecorated, and Catra really shouldn’t be this intimidated by it. She just isn’t sure how this will end. Now that there’s a chance that she could keep Adora in her life, a hope planted in her mind by Bow and Glimmer, Catra’s afraid to risk messing it up.

Catra runs through one of the breathing exercises her therapist taught her. It works. After she lets out her last, deep breath, she walks quickly down the hallway. She can’t hear anything through the door, so before she can lose her nerve, she knocks.

“Yeah?” Adora’s voice calls, muffled. Catra isn’t sure if that’s an invitation or not, but she decides to take it as one and opens the door. It creaks slightly on its hinges. Behind it lies a small bedroom with pale yellow walls lined with bookshelves, dimly lit by a lamp with the overhead light turned off. It’s fairly clean, with a few books and papers on the floor by the desk beneath the window. Beside the desk is a twin-sized bed covered in quilts—and on top of the covers is Adora. She’s stretched out on the bed, wearing another old basketball jersey and running shorts, propped up on her elbows and staring at Catra with wide eyes.

“…Hi,” Catra says, half-whispering. “Um. I can go if you want, but…I wanna say some things.”

“Glimmer went and got you, huh,” Adora says. She sits up the rest of the way, swinging her legs off the bed.

“Yeah,” Catra says. Adora sighs, pushing her loose hair out of her face.

“Alright,” she says. “You better come in. Close the door, her and Bow are probably listening around the corner.” Catra doesn’t know about that, but she obeys, stepping the rest of the way into the room and closing the door behind her. “So,” Adora says. “Talk.” She still sounds angry, and it makes Catra flinch.

“I’m sorry,” Catra says, “for not asking before I posted the photo.” Adora sighs, leaning back on her palms.

“I know you are, Catra,” she says. “I’ll get over it eventually.” Catra nods. She understands the need to be angry for a little while. “Is that all you came here to say?” Adora asks.

“No,” Catra says. “No, I—“ She takes a deep breath. “I have something for you.” Adora frowns at her. Catra pulls her phone and earbuds out of her pocket and walks across the room. “Put these on,” she says. Adora gives her a strange look, but listens. She puts in the earbuds. Catra grabs Adora’s desk chair and pulls it up alongside the bed to sit down. She turns her phone on, opens her voice memos, and taps the latest one.

Catra watches Adora’s face while she listens. It’s a fruitless gesture: Adora’s eyes close in the first ten seconds, and her face remains firmly still, expressionless, until the memo runs out. Then she takes out the earbuds, hands them back over to Catra, and looks at her, face still blank.

“That was you singing,” Adora says, gesturing at the phone. “Was that your song?”

“Yeah,” Catra says, heart in her throat. “I wrote it last week.” Adora’s eyes go wide.

“Wait a minute,” she says. “That was—did you…write that for _me_?” Catra almost laughs.

“You’re such an idiot,” she says. “Of course I wrote it for you.” Adora stares at her, rendered speechless. “Adora, I…” Catra pauses, looking for the right words. “I really, really liked being here for the past few weeks, but mostly I liked being with you. And I know we agreed that this was just going to be a thing while I was here, but that’s not what I want. I want…to try this. With you. For real.”

“Catra…”

“And I know I fucked up with the photo,” Catra says before Adora finish responding. “And if—if you want this, too, I’m probably going to fuck up a lot more. But I just—I mean, you heard how I feel.”

“I did.” Adora looks conflicted, jaw clenching and unclenching with anxiety. “I want to say yes, Catra. But even if people don’t find me from the photo you posted, if we’re together, they’ll find me eventually. From what I hear, you’re famous.”

“I know,” Catra says, ignoring the weak attempt at a joke. “I know what I’m asking you. But, Adora…that might not be such a bad thing. I know you’re happy here, and I’m not asking you to _leave_ , but there’s a lot out there worth seeing, too.” She reaches out, taking one of Adora’s hand, and revels in the fact that Adora doesn’t pull away. “I know the ranch is your home,” she says. “I know it’s your safe place. But it can’t be your whole world, Adora. You deserve more. Even if that’s not me.” Adora looks down at their joined hands.

“I’m gonna fuck up, too,” she says. “More than you, probably.”

“Is that a yes?” Catra asks, breathless. Adora looks up at her, a small smile on her face.

“I guess if something’s gotta drag me back to the city, it might as well be a pretty girl.” Catra exhales shakily, her whole body relaxing. She stands, dropping Adora’s hand, and steps over to the bed, resting her forearms on Adora’s shoulders. Adora’s hands settle around her waist, and she looks up at Catra, a soft smile on her face. “We got two more days before you leave anyway, right?” Catra winces.

“I changed flights, actually,” she says. “My plane leaves in…” She taps her phone on the desk beside her, checking the time. “Two hours.” She turns back to Adora, who looks _heartbroken_ now. “Don’t worry,” Catra says. “I can miss it.” Adora leans back, falling slowly into the mattress, and uses her grip on Catra’s waist to pull Catra down on top of her.

“Good,” Adora whispers, and leans up to kiss Catra. Catra melts into it, gripping Adora’s shoulders and letting her body rest fully on top of Adora’s, no space left between them.

“Mm.” Catra pulls away just enough to look Adora in the eye. “I still have to leave, though,” she says. “Soon.”

“I know,” Adora says. She lifts a hand from Catra’s waist and strokes her hair with it instead. “That’s okay. I’ll come visit.”

“You will?”

“Yeah.” Adora smiles. “I’ve heard L.A.’s nice this time of year.”

“L.A. is literally never nice,” Catra says, making Adora laugh.

“Well, you’ll need me,” she says. Catra raises an eyebrow.

“Oh, will I.”

“Sure you will,” Adora says. “I’m your muse, right?” She kisses Catra’s cheek, right over the freckles that splash across it. “Gotta be around so you can write more songs about me.”

“You’re gonna be insufferable about that, aren’t you.” Adora just grins at her, smug and happy. “Whatever,” Catra mutters. “I’ll write a whole fucking album for you, if you want.”

“I just want you.”

“Well, that’ll be a whole lot less work, then.” Adora shakes her head, still smiling like an idiot.

“Catra?” she says.

“Yeah?”

Adora flips them over. Catra lands on her back with Adora on top of her, a dense, comforting weight.

“C’mere,” Adora says. “We got a few days left, I’m gonna make the most of ‘em.” She pauses, a thought occurring to her. “And then we got lots more days, when I come see you,” she says. “Gonna make the most of _all_ of them.”

“Get started, then,” Catra says, and pulls Adora down into a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> the song that catra wrote, and the song that the title for the fic comes from, is let's be happy by fire chief charlie, but if you were imagining a different song that is also valid and you should tell me what song in the comments so i can take a look!
> 
> i hope you enjoyed whatever the fuck this fic is. i don't even know. i haven't spoken to people in real life in weeks and i've written 70k words of fanfiction in the past month. this is my life now.
> 
> i'm on tumblr @sevens-evan and on twitter @sevens_evan. follow me either place if you're interested in seeing more of my work; i write a lot of prompt fics on tumblr if that's your jam. check out my other catradora fics, which are less. like this. please leave a comment if you enjoyed + if you also have feelings for cowboy adora now.


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